


'^■ 1 , 








»‘«4; i»*i*i»**' -f 
i-Ii 











































W?4- 


COFVRIGHT DEPOSm 






































'* ♦Vi-' ^ ' ' 

. ' i 

^ • • I* 






^ I 


• • 


f' 



. / 










*r 






T* / * -?H t "r^t- ;>% 


■^a: 


::%Z^‘'‘H- nr 

’’ «^- -'■ •'■' 
V 


*f % 


-‘•L 




E.^“; ■.. nVjBK ■■.■; >. ■. '^i^i . *--•■ 

^•‘ ,: V' • . in.,* -'■-V. 




* 






^ 1 # t'- 




-< i 







-' ii. ■ " ^ V- 4 

k »■ * • %.• V ‘ 4. 

*\' . 

>A * - ^ ' ■'^1 

. • il:'?T5 




%r 


X® 

3 ,* ■• 


t • 


7 








■ 


f '* 


t 


sa- 


• A ., 


J 


■ - Vj*‘ It 


'Jj^Z 





y& 


Vj 











•?. 








L- v,"’ ’ ■ • JI* S-' ' "'i ’■' 

I*-! -7 .' -fc , -.-T^ •--•„-^^ i^..;i -v' 

_ ,». .* ■ ^ > fc_ _ • W' ^ 4 

tl-.■T?;.;'V. Tj - - . ,. > 






n 




? ‘ ; 



*X' 


[< r 


^.1; 




• 0 


I. 




' •/: 


^1 


♦V 


^.' . ' ' • *. • "* rwti* 

w^.i ’*^tV«.V^^L 

fir . . - ' 

^..o /:. • . 

; Wv 



< •’ 


1 • •’.*•■ 

V>- 


T /- • 


a 




t' ‘ ► 


I ^ • ; L. 



^« 



„'< , • ."’f '' .1^'-?^’:-'X -•-'- '■■•tn^ - 4 *'' -^'V^Si kiJ 

■* -y ^ 4 My> iifeL- i’-.i 



♦ <• 


wr 




1 


I I 




4 , 


f. 


I 


\ 


t 









I 



1 






I 


r 


• j * ^ 

^ V • ‘ 

} 



I 


I 





t 

\ 


r 


f 


. I 











/‘ft. 4. 



APR 28’24 



©C1A7'02158 


» (. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Frontispiece . 3 

My Little Friend. 9 

The Face of God. 10 

Hail, Kindly Cedars! Hail!. .. 11 

The Shelter Seekers. 12 

On Daddy’s Knee. 14 

Sonnet “The wisdom of a discreet man”. 15 

Muted Strains— 

I.—Invitation to the Poet. 16 

II.—He Declines . 17 

Detachment. 18 

Voice of the Seashell. 19 

The Touchstone. 21 

The Fallen Oak. 22 

To Mary . 25 

Summer Nocturn . 26 

Unspoken . 28 

The Sweetest Song of All. 29 

The Country’s Call. 30 

Judge Not. 32 

Raising the Siege. 33 

Choice . 34 

Here in the Chapel’s Dusky Aisle Apart. 36 

Absolved ... 

The Patient God. 38 


[7] 


























CONTENTS (continued) 


Phantasmagoria . 

True Love . 

The Braver Knight. 

Gethsemane . 

The Publican . 

What War Can Do. 

Death . 

» 

The Truest Alms. 

At the Gates of Eternity.... 

Care-Free Rambles. 

Snow Dust. 

The Death-Bed of Ursula. . . 
“The Little Flower’s” Choice 

Dream Travel. 

To a Kindly Sympathizer. . . 

To the Bumblebee. 

To Little Dog Petey. 

A Ballad to the Jingo. 

His Only Plea. 


Page 
. 39 
. 41 
. 42 
. 43 
. 43 
. 44 
. 45 
. 45 
. 46 
. 47 
. 49 
. 51 
. 52 
. 53 
. 55 
. 57 
. 59 
. 61 
. 62 





















Little Friend 



HERE is a little miss I meet, 

I pass her daily on the street, 

She greets me with a smile so sweet 
That I am captivated. 


A fairy she, scarce seven years old. 
About her head play locks of gold; 
No rose is fairer to behold 
Than she, when all is stated. 


She is like one of those—ah me! 

That climbed the Savior’s gentle knee, 
And felt His hand so lovingly 
Upon their silken tresses. 


And when she asks me, *^How are you?” 
Just as all grown-up persons do, 

I make a serious answer to 
Her lady-like addresses. 


God bless my cheery little friend! 
Her artless ways I would not mend; 
I’d have her thus unto the end. 
Could I but have my pleasure. 


Methinks full surely God has given 
This sunny sprite of years scarce seven, 
To closer link my heart to Heaven, 

And there to place my treasure. 


[ 9 ] 


The Face of Qod 



HERE are no pangs to souls forlorn 
Where riven hearts are aching, 

Nor tears of childhood’s sunny morn 
Which are not of thy making, 

0 Sorrow, that from pole to pole, 
Dost yield us all thy bitter dole! 


The rose we pluck in beauty’s blow 
Gives sadness in the taking; 
There’s sorrow in the sunset’s glow 
Our wistful eyes forsaking. 

No joy-cup to our lips we press 
But hath its drop of bitterness. 


Our loves are purest, so we deem. 

Where stricken seif lies sighing; 

Just as the rainbow’s loveliest beam 
Yet lovelier seems in dying. 

And from the cradle to the grave 
The heart’s best gifts ’twas sorrow gave. 

There is one object over all— 

’Tis Heaven when we view it; 

There’s but one thing which cannot pall. 
But losing which we rue it— 

The Pace of God. Can aught save this 
Flood us with tides of perfect bliss? 


[ 10 ] 


Hail, Kindly Cedars! Hail! 


H, HERE’S a glee to the cedars, 

Our staunch old friends and true! 

What boots the snow, when the wild winds blow? 
For never a change do the cedars know 
All the long years through. 


And here’s a lilt to the cedars, 

Sturdy of frame and mien. 

Where the lordly oak-tree’s pride is fled. 
And he stares as a Gorgon, stark and dead, 
There be the cedars green. 


A toss of my cap to the cedars, 

The lovingest trees that be! 

The time-tides roll and the seasons veer, 

Yet tender, sweeter year by year, 

My cedars are to me. 

A parting word to the cedars. 

For a friend of the cedars am I. 

They’ll give in death what in life they gave, 
When they keep their vigils near the grave 
Where under the sod I lie. 


[ 11 ] 


The Shelter Seekers 


f EAKS ago while the moon rained down 
A silvery shower on Bethlehem town, 

And earth lay pranked in wintry dress 
Of a maiden snow-fall’s loveliness; 

And nipping winds from the northland blew, 
As is their surly wont to do— 

In the hush of eve long years ago, 

Seeking a rooftree from the snow, 

Two weary, footsore pilgrims came.— 

At many a door in God’s sweet name 

One craved for the Lady shelter’s boon, 
’Neath the wonder gaze of the queenly moon. 

0 surely none would say them nay! 

Were this not turning Heaven away! 

Shelter he craved for the Lady there. 

With the angel face and the winsome air; 

But never a hearth was kind to them 
’Mong the townsfolk there in Bethlehem. 

And never a word spake they, may be. 

To blunt their cold discourtesy; 


[12] 


% 


And none of the townsfolk ever knew 
Who at their doors did knock and sue. 

Yet one wee star had... .a great delight, 

’Twould tryst by the blessed crib that night; 

» 

But she that kept lone watch above— 

The sad-eyed moon—what thought she of? 


■ 


[ 13 ] 





On baddy’s Knee 


€ 


OME hnddle up closer, little one, 

While the sandman comes for you; 
And we’ll rock away till your tiny sail 
, Is afloat on a sea of blue. 


And the stars will blink, and the fireflies dance, 
And the old moon split his sides; 

For it’s up and away where the dolphins play 
Over the rippling tides. 


8o trim your sails in the good ship Nod, 

Soon jolly good times there’ll be. 

When we enter the Ocean of Dreams ere long 
Till the sun comes out of the sea. 


And mama will stand on the silvery beach 
Till her baby’s ship heaves to; 

And a kiss will welcome the rover back 
To the Harbor of Love anew. 


[ 14 ] 


Sonnet 


'‘The wisdom, of a discreet man is to understand his 
way.”—(Prov. XIV, 8.) 

ASK me not for dalliance path of ease, 

Where sunlit stretches ever thrill the eye, 

While song-birds throated red entreat the sky, 

And rose-bursts flame their tinted ecstacies. 

Nay, soul of mine, life’s cunning witcheries 
Leave we to fools who are content to buy 
Brief hour of bliss for one eternal sigh— 

Whose pleasure knells their dead souls’ obsequies. 

I would discern of bitterness the sweet. 

Kiss tenderly my rood of little pains. 

Make nothingness to coin me golden gains. 

Learn wisdom’s folly at my Master’s feet, 

And hear from Him: ‘ ‘ Right nobly hast thou wrought; 
Thy loaned bond hath premium richly brought.” 


[161 


SMuted Strains 

L INVITATION TO THE POET 


2 > 


GROW unbidden, 
A violet I, 

In cranny hidden 
To woo and die. 


"‘Shouldst chance my bower 
And where I be, 

A sunshine dower 
I’ll be to thee. 

'^Meet haunt for fairy 
This sheltered nook. 

Where birds make merry 
And purls the brook. 

*^Come lilt in gladness 
Some ballad gay! 

A truce to sadness 
On such a day.” 

—(Continued on ncjrt Page) 


[ 16 ] 


^uted Strains 

n. HE DEOJNES 

'‘My rhymes mn slowly— 
Wilt thou I try? 

My viol is lowly, 

Sweet plant,” said I. 

'' My strains not soaring: 

My secret art 
Is peace outpouring 
Where bleeds a heart. 

"Here there is laughter 
And romp of Spring; 
Anon hereafter, 

Beloved, I’ll sing.” 


[173 


detachment 



OT for thine own sake, comely Rose! 

Hath He devised thee garb so sweet; 
But that we viewing, first admire, 

Then set thee blushing at His feet. 
Yet lest thy lure should play us false 
To miss the Giver in His gift. 

There is a pricking thorn at hand— 

A jealous love’s reprisal swift. 


Should love not guard its well beloved 
From all impending harms that be, 
Tho’ pain cry out, and tear-drops flow 
That token seeming cruelty? 

For fangs of peril coil beneath 
The siren thing that witches us— 
Small wonder that a kindly God 
Should turn its lure to bitterness. 


[ 18 ] 


%)oice of the Seashell 


(^BERE with tint pilfered of sunset at evening- 
^ Amethyst, turquoise, with orient pearl— 
There on my mantel a seashell’s reclining, 
Once did the surf billows over it curl. 
Wistful in exile, sadly it pineth, 

Ever it harks to some far away home. 
Caitiff the hand that first did remove it, 
Woful the plight which has made it to roam. 


Take it up gently, then list to its saying! 

Do you not catch the wild turmoil within— 
Lash of the breakers that shudder on landward, 
Blare of the tempest’s commingling din? 
Coasts that my vision shall rest upon never 
Rise from a swirling and turbulent sea— 
Headlands agrey with the chisel of ages. 

Wont to naught else but lorn dirges of dree. 


Pin of the ravenous shark o’er the seething. 
Snort of the sea monster’s joy in his play. 
Dolphins abreast of the chargers of ocean. 

Glint of white sails that are leagues far away, 
Stretches on stretches of verdureless sand dune, 
Haunt of the wild fowl that screams in its glee, 
Where winged sea gulls careen in their flying— 
Wondrous, 0 Seashell, thy message to me I 


[ 19 ] 


Vainly the Tritons of Neptune wouW have thee 
Trumpet their sea monarch’s royal behest: 

Better canst trumpet the heart of Old Ocean— 

Thou that hast dwelt ’neath the green of her breast! 
Yet when thou tonguest thy mistress* fair beauty 
Choice of thy tribute thou rend’rest to Him— 

Him that has dizened the rainbow and lily, 

Blazoned the archer moon’s delicate rim. 





The Touchstone 


HOU DOST avow thy friendship leal and true. 

So be it then. Yet if the veil should rise, 

As aye it will, and to thine eager eyes 
My bloody Cross of shame should rise to view, 
Wouldst still be true? 

Wilt cleave to Me till death, dost thou avow? 

So be it then. Yet if the rod should bend 
To smite and scourge thee till thy spirit send 
Aloft its wail of piteous pleading pain, 

Wouldst still be true? 

If I should levy impost on thy heart, 

And quench from galaxy of love each one 
Of those fair stars thou fondly dotest on, 

Couldst see a Father's hand in all thy smart? 
Wouldst still be true? 

And if I stripped thee bare, as frost the tree. 

Till there, amid the dead leaves scattered round, 
Only the naked trunk should cumber ground,— 
How now? Wouldst falter not? Still cleave to Mel 
Wouldst still be true? 


[ 21 ] 


The Fallen Oak 


TON the rivershingly beach there lies 
Tart ’mersed and part exposed, what erstwhile was 
Some forest pride,—an ancient bole of oak. 

Whence came it there no human tongue could tell. 

No doubt when I am gone and laid to rest, 

Pull many a stranger wandering there will pause 
And speculate upon its age, and draw 
Reflection from its melancholy plight. 

Black storms have raged and uttered fierce and loud 
Their execrations o’er that monarch dead; 

Descending rains have drenched, and monster waves 
Have whelmed him o’er and o’er, and water-birds 
In rapid flights have gloated o’er his head— 

He heeds them not, but lieth there outstretched 
Like some Leviathan in shackles bound,— 

All powerless and yet defiant still 
L^nto the last. 


The vermeil blush at eve, 

The moon’s caress or frolic of the stars, 

A dawn imparadised at early morn. 

Or winter’s downy largess falling down 
Are one to him,—he marks their presence not. 


Time was when *mong his brothers of the wood, 
That he could glory in his nigged strength; 

Could laugh to scorn the onset of the gale, 

And look the blue of heaven in the face; 

And hearken to the chansons of the birds, 

And shelter them upon his gnarled limbs; 

And catch the forest’s murmured symphony 
Of swaying boughs; and hear the vagrant owl 
Make ghostly din; and sustenance afford 
Unto the squirrel, his merry little friend. 

What destiny unkind has laid him low? 

Wouldst thou to heaven soar on wing of fame? 
Wouldst have thy name and deeds emblazed fore’er 
On tablets of a deathless age, that men 
Of dawning generations thee may hail 
As Corypheus of thy fellows all? 

Wouldst have men chant in honeyed words of praise 
The fame as poet, orator, savant? 

Vain,—vain will all such glory be to thee 
When thou thyself art mouldering in the dust. 

The tooth of time will leave thee as yon oak— 

A thing of wretched helplessness to point 
A moral to each straggler passing by. 


[ 23 ] 


So part we, fallen monarch of the wood! 

Let none presume with taunt disdainful then 

To blast thy memory, or deem accursed 

Thy lot. High heaven forfend! Hast nobly wrought; 

Hast shed o^er man and beast thy canopy 

Of cooling shade; hast bared thy rugged breast 

To blighting thunder-bolts, that else to earth 

Had crashed thy lesser kindred of the grove ; 

Hast braved thy century of chilling blasts; 

Hast yielded of thy fruitage lavishly; 

And fired youth to deed of high emprise 
In emulation of thy sturdiness. 

Thou saidst thy Nune Dimittis worthily. 

To thee.all hail! 




[ 24 ] 






To iMary 



ARY, if tliou wouldst let me sing 
My love for thee all hungering, 

I’d pilfer honey like the bee 

Prom all sweet things for song to thee. 

I’d borrow from the philomel, 

The violin should serve me well, 

And I should pillage earth and sky 
Till all things sweet with each should vie 
To laud thee. Mother mild! 


Mary, if I could paint thy face. 

The Masters all should yield me place, 
And all composite charms should meet 
In thy fair visage exquisite. 

I’d lend thee a robe of snowy white, 
I’d gird thy brow with stars of night. 
And only He should lovelier be 
Thine arms caress so tenderly— 

Thine own dear little Child. 


Mary, if I could have my way 
When splendor garbs each dying day, 
Emblazed shafts of sunset gold 
Thy Son and thee should both enfold; 
And gazing outward to the west, 

All eyes should catch the vision blest, 
And mightily one chant would rise 
To hail thee Queen of Earth and Skies, 
Thou peerless, undefiled! 


[ 25 ] 


Summer TSloctum 



HINE, tranquil stars, 

That herald twilight's 
Templed silences! 

Shine ye, while tired zephyrs 
Hold their breath. 

And the tall spectral trees. 

In pointed hood and sombre guise 
Borrowed from the huddled dusk, 
Lean towards me, cautionwise, 
With a finger on the lip. 
Whispering, ‘‘Hush! Hush!" 


Shine, shepherd stars. 

O’er modest coverlets 
Where sleeping innocency lies 
By angel wings caressed! 

How dulcet the gloaming hours 
All fraught with tenderness! 

See, with what fondness 
Each yearning mother flower 
To her baby buds in leafly cradles 
Tucked in, oh, so lovingly. 

Croons dream songs softly, 

As sweetly soothing 
As far off strains nocturnal. 
Coming on pinions gossamer 
To pensive lattice bars. 


[ 26 ] 


Shine, sturdy sentinels, 

As ye have done 

Through cycles of dead yester-years— 
And joyously. 

Albeit from yonder 
Dizzy-heighted parapets 
Ye have eyed serenely 
Ten thousand dastard spectacles. 

And marked the wreck and tragedy 
Of untold crumbling dynasties. 

Be ye as ever unabashed 
By myriad brooding harms ye witness. 
And the skulking deeds of men 
That shame the guardian spirits 
Of the slumber hours. 

Shine, wistful stars! 

Full well can I divine 

The bosomed secret of your sometime 

Soulful earthward scrutiny; 

For ye do leave behind you 
Rueful traces 

Of your telltale tears compassionate 
To dim the silken lashes 
Of the waking dawn. Verily 
Ye visioned Him 

Who hanged upon the Atoning Mount 
So roofed in shrouded loneliness; 

And ye did learn your pitying lesson 
Well and everlastingly. 

Farewell, lovely stars.Adieu! 


[273 



Unspoken 



UR tongues are jailers to the soul. Behind 
The durance bar of futile words remain 
Immured what regal thoughts that pine in vain 
For cozy shelter in some kindred mind! 

Alas, for verbal penuries that bind 

The chafing spirit with their galling chain! 
Must thought unprized of us forever gain 
The hearing nobler thought has failed to find? 


But when these earth-sprung bodies of decay 
Shall cease to hamper us forevermore, 

Then shall our unleashed spirits upward soar 
And pink of converse share eternally. 

Then hail thee, poet-wand of wizardry, 
That givest dungeoned thought her liberty! 


[ 28 ] 


The S'weetest Song of cAll 



T IS not that my love of olden days 
Has waned towards thee, my own, my gracious Queen 
That hushed from every strain of fervid praise 
This poor and humble lyre of mine ha« been; 

But that such halting song as mine 
Were mute to tell 
My veneration for thee 
And my love as well. 


I have not held my peace because I felt 
No more the joyous old-time thrill that came, 
When suppliant at some shrine of thine I knelt, 
And called upon thy sweet and gentle name; 
But that I deemed my timid verse 
A shabby thing 
To tender unto thee 
For suited offering. 

But now I see that love may strongest be 
When impotent its burning tale to tell. 

Such impotence makes sweeter melody 

Than strains where splendid angel choirs dwell. 
And love, tho ’ in its meanest garb 
Of words expressed, 

May prove the sweetest song 
Of all, and e’en the best. 


[293 


The Country’s Call 


% 


HE drumtaps beat, the winds repeat 
Fair freedom’s battle cry. 

Our sires have taught us freedom’s worth; 
Here freedom leaped to glorious birth, 
Upmounting to the sky; 

And if she’s worth the throes, the pain, 
The crimson toll of heroes slain, 

’Twere churlish to demur. 


Yes, yes, we’re in—^now doth begin 
Our quota to the dead. 

We’ll shrink not from the leaden pour; 
We’ve tramped o’er sodden field before 
With firm unflinching tread. 

One bosomed hope shall fostered be 
That our God boon, Democracy, 

Strike root in every land. 

Yes, we are in—God help us win 
And rouse our civic pride. 

Oh! there be evils worse by far 
To nations than the ills of war, 

Let these be multiplied. 

A spineless, selfish people’s way 
Unerring leads to base decay— 

Its hopes are in the dust. 


[ 30 ] 


Wave then our flag from spire and crag, 
Proud emblem of the free! 

Well bear it on to Franceshore; 

Well flaunt it where the thunders roar 
To strain of martial glee; 

And pause not till Old Glory true 
Floats out our colors to the blue 
In sign of victory. 

Chicago Tribune 
Dec. 16, 1917 


m 


[ 31 ] 





Judge Not 



WOULD not have thee judge my heart 
By what the outward eye can see; 

To judge my heart is Heaven’s part, 

And Heaven will kindliest deal with me. 


The heart is our own citadel, 

Which God alone can penetrate. 

No mind can tell or know so well 

Our thoughts, and whence they emanate. 


To harsher thoughts say thou adieu. 

Are kindlier judgments not the best? 
The kindliest view comes soonest true 
When deeds are put to certain test. 

To judge thy neighbor be thou slow; 

And peaceful shall thy slumber be. 
On friend or foe, do thou bestow 
Thy sweet and gentle charity. 


[ 32 ] 


Rising the Siege 


% 


HE day is done. 

Within the stronghold of her palisade 
Of mantled shade, 

Beleagnered twilight loudly laughs to scorn 
The routed archer sun, 

Crestfallen, and of vaunted splendor shorn. 
He, in the postern of the west, 

His deep chagrin 
And baffled spleen 
Doth still attest. 

With glinting spite shafts spent of power, 
’Gainst twilight’s armoured hour. 

Anon hath ceased the fight. 

And now, within the tents of night, 

The twilight minions bivouac till the day; 
Yet with concern 

To flee, lest with a goodlier array, 

The wily vanquished foe betimes return 
And so renew the fray. 


[333 


Choice 


A TRAVELER would I be, 
never ivied ruins fair, 

Nor sacred fanes that soar in prayer 
Should lure my soul the strongest; 
But where my Master walked and died, 
The soil His feet have glorified— 

Here would I linger longest— 
Jesus! 


A writer would I be, 

But none such feats of heroes great 
My facile pen should e’er relate 
As vaunt of earthly glory; 

But princely deeds of love divine 
Of Him Who paid His life for mine 
I’d tell in thrilling story— 
Jesus. 


A miner would I be. 

But not to delve into the ground 
Where gleaming treasure may be found 
That fools go frantic over. 

Nay, biding treasure would I seek 
And find it in that Heart all meek 
Of Him, my gentle Lover, 

Jesus. 


[ 34 ] 


A sculptor would I be, 

Yet not to have the mallet stroke 
Prom senseless marble to evoke 
Almost a sentient creature; 

But in my soul, with stroke of grace, 
Christ’s other self should grow apace 
In comeliness of feature— 

Jesus. 



[ 36 ] 





Here in the Chapel’s Dusky Aisle Apart 


OULDST thou unbare the counsel of thy breast 
To kindred soul that will a balm impart t 
Dost crave some solace for thy drooping heart? 
Go sooner thou to Him; His far the best; 

Within His gift is biding peace and rest. 

Here in the chapel's dusky aisle apart 
Kneel thou a child in trust, whoe'er thou art, 
x\nd thou shalt know thyself a welcome guest. 


Full many a wayworn pilgrim here hath felt— 
Here where the timid sheen of yonder light 
Feels through the dark as glowworm in the night 
Renewal of his spirit as he knelt 

In prayerful converse by the feet of Him, 

The ecstasy of Saint and Seraphim. 


[361 


cAbsolved 


IT from guilt, 0 Night! 

C^Thy dewy tears contrite 
Moisten thy bed? 

Behold, yon coming father Sun 

Hath gauged thy tear-drops every one— 

Be comforted! 

He sends from out the templed East 
Majestic Dawn, his herald priest, 

And o'er thy shamed and sorrowing head 
His sacramental arm outspread 
Gives biding pledge that thou art shriven— 
Go hence, 0 Prodigal, forgiven! 


The Patient Qod 



INDLY His hand, of power that holds in check 
The raging sea's battalions hurtling on; 
Splendid His artist eye to so bedeck 
With stars the vault of night against the dawn. 


Sweet His concern that minds to benefit 
Each nursling flower whereso'er it grow; 

The bird of passage—well He tutors it 
To flee before the gelid breath of snow. 

Glorious His power that rears the spiring trees 
To shape a temple in some velvet dell, 

Where sylvan songsters flute their symphonies 
Rich as the molten chime of a silver bell. 


Yet I do sense Him most to be.a God! 

For patience wonderful He deigns to me— 
The mother heart of Him that stays the rod, 
And WOOS me to forego iniquity. 


[ 88 ] 



Phantasmagoria 

<51 SAT me near the hearth’s faint flickering flame; 
thousand fairy fancies went and came, 

While cold and cruel raged the wintry gale 
Along the barren hill and frozen dale. 

I nodded, drowsed, and in unfettered sleep, 

I wandered, fancy free, the trackless deep. 


Far upward in the Arctic’s icy waste, 

Methought I saw on crystal fabric placed. 

Enthroned the North King, clad in regal state, 

Whose slightest nod a menial host await. 

’Twas where the foot of man had never strayed. 

His eye had ne’er the glorious scene surveyed; 

’Twas where no venturous bark e’er skimmed the brine, 
Where peaks ice-crested in the sunlight shine; 

’Twas where the monarch holds perpetual sway, 

Where frozen deeps his every wish obey. 

See! myriad snowflakes in a whirl descend. 

And copse and brake in trembling agony bend; 

The meadows now in glittering shrouds are wrapped, 
And icy fetters on the streams are clapped: 

’Tis now I know the tyrant’s spell is cast 
On land and sea,—the Ruler of the blast. 

Then whistling, howling, shrieking on his way, 

I see him hurtling on through all the day. 

The playful fountain gushing erst with life, 

Where roses glowed and violets were rife. 

Stands stark in death, a horror in its gaze, 

Its music frozen, hushed its roundelays. 


[ 39 ] 



A palace towering toward the frigid skies 
Stands glittering with a host of varied dyes. 

No onset of the North King’s raging powers 
Can shake its green-hned battlements and towers. 
A crystal gate gives entrance to the hold, 

When havoc-sated, king and minions bold 
Quit southern climes, and in the castle great 
Have wassail high and rule their proud estate. 
With rarest frostwork all the portals beam, 

And opalescent crystals glint and gleam. 

The stately monarch treads a man of might. 

With jeweled sceptre, crown, and vesture white. 
E’en as King Aeolus did in bondage keep 
Unruly winds that strove their bounds to leap, 
So, too, in gelid caverns pent secure. 

The North King holds his blustering vassals sure. 

At times on pleasure bent the king goes forth 
To hunt the monsters of the frigid North. 

Then winged sea-fowl and the sporting seal 
And polar bears his fateful presence feel. 

Oft, too, some hapless ship that plows the main 
Is hurled in fragments o’er the watery plain. 

The hunt tears on beneath the northern lights 
That flame aloft and crimson all the heights. 

In sledge of gold the king pursues the chase, 

And like a meteor flashes into space. 


Whe—ew! What’s this? My wandering wits return, 
The fires no longer on the hearthstone burn. 

My limbs are numb, I’m shivering with cold. 
Confound old Morpheus and the North King bold! 


[ 40 ] 



True Love 


OULDST know the most delightful song- 
Tlie sweetest man can sing? 

The tongneless anthem deep and strong, 
That finds the wonted phrase too long, 
The flaming heart’s ontpouring sigh— 

Tis this that penetrates the sky 
And captivates the King. 


Where true love dwells within a heart, 
Convention it defies. 

True love it scorns set laws of art— 
Like eagle skyward does it dart. 

The best of what it has it gives; 

Yet being poor, the richer lives, 

And lives whereof it dies. 


141 ] 


The Braver Knight 

thou couldst take 
^ thy needy brother’s place 

And be the pleader at another’s door, 

W ouldst feel aggrieved 
if so he turned his face, 

Nor gave thee aught from out his ample store? 

Couldst thou but change 
thy lot for just a while, 

And have as he, thy brother’s heart of woe, 
Wouldst lightly prize 
the cheery word or smile 
Thou gavest not, but now thou era vest so ? 

There’s many a sorrow 
thou shalt never know; 

The greater burden seeks the stouter soul. 

Thy brother’s shield 
can bear a sturdier blow; 

Else had there been for him a lighter dole. 


[ 42 ] 


Gethsemane 


3 


NTO His heart’s forge flaming red 
Is thrust crude ore of thought, 
Which on His will’s stout anvil bed 
To giant deed is wrought. 


The Publican 



or from sheer skies of blue 
Refreshing rains have birth, 

But sable clouds, down low, 
Smit with the lightning’s blow 
Renew the blistered earth. 


143 ] 


mat War Can <T>o 


HAT can war do ? 

Enkindle giant fires of hate and wrath, 

Leave charred and smoking ruin in its path; 
Gold-dabbled fields to bloody shambles turn, 
Where highest glory is to hack and burn; 

And when the battle smoke has cleared away, 
The pink of mankind is the vulture’s prey:— 
This war can do. 


What can war dot 

Undo what toiling ages left in fee,— 

Give bankrupt heirloom to posterity; 

Snatch husband from a cherished wife’s embrace, 
And leave at every hearth some vacant place. 

Do fiendish deeds that only spawn of hell 
Could aptly joy thereat and say: ’tis well:— 
This war can do. 


What can war dot 

Lay on the lash until amid the dust 

Our loud peccavis purge the deed unjust; 

Scourge us until we prize the worth of peace. 

And plead to Him we’ve slighted for release; 

Down topple every idol of our pride, 

Turn heedless millions to the Crucified: — 
This war can do. 


[ 44 ] 


Death 


% 


HE teeming, drooping, golden ear 
Invites the gleaner’s knife; 
And for the harvest of the year, 
Ope’s wide the bin of life. 


The Truest Alms 



OT from the silken purse, but 
The truest alms proceed; 
The coin that succors half the 
Leaves other half to bleed. 


from the heart 
beggar’s smart 


Some stray '‘God bless you,” thou didst here repeat 
May net thee highest pay. 

When thou shalt stand beside the Judgment Seat 
Upon the Judgment Day. 


[ 46 ] 


At the Gates of Eternity 


TAB beams may glimmer and gleam, 
Flowers may shimmer and glow, 
Waters may flash till we almost deem 
They are opal gems that we know; 

Yet a single smile from our Lady’s eyes, 
That upon her lips would play, 

Would turn bleak earth into Paradise 
And a bower of bliss for aye. 


Sweet is the organ’s peal 
And a bird’s clear matin song; 
Charming the notes that softly steal 
Through the hush of the night along; 
Yet a word of our Lady’s lips would be 
A sound so dear and sweet. 

Our ears would swoon with its melody, 
And our hearts would lie at her feet. 


Welcome the rest at eve 

When the busy task is done; 

Happy the victor to receive 
Praise when his fight is won; 

Yet three glad things of glad things all 
My dying choice would be— 

A word, a smile, and our Lady’s call 
At the Gates of Eternity. 


[ 46 ] 


Care-Free Rambles 



HEN brightly shines the sun by day 
And care-free zephyrs blow, 

Ill ramble—oh, so far away!— 

I reck not where I go. 


To some fern-haunted nook I ^11 stray. 

Find me a bower there, 

Where red-breast robin ^s roundelay 
Makes frolicsome the air. 

A dainty patch of sun-kissed sky 
Will tag me through the trees; 

Some year-scarred oak may charm mine eye 
To martial rhapsodies. 

Should chance impel me to yon stream. 

I’ll step with silken tread 

To note where sportive fishes gleam 
Above their mossy bed. 

Where love-lorn lilies pure as snow 
Coquet the vagrant breeze. 

And clumps of sweet wild flowers grow 
To tempt bold robber-bees. 


147 ] 


And pasture lands full oft I’ll pass 
Where cattle pause to drink, 

Or browse on plot of tender grass 
Beside the river’s brink. 

I’ll steal upon the water rat 
And silent in the shade, 

I’ll view him near the habitat 
His nightly toil has made. 

And gorgeous sunsets I shall see 
To thrill me with delight. 

Until night’s sombre tapestry 
Shuts out their glories bright. 

I’ll see Apocalyptic fires 
Of colors who should say, 

As if upon their blazing pyres 
The sun had passed away. 

But ahl whene’er such sights I see, 
Such glimpses as I stray, 

I ken that Thou, my Deity, 

Art not so far away. 


148 ] 


Snow Dust 



NOW dust down drifting—^that is all. 

So eloquently silent is its fall! 

Is it some White Compassion weaves this dress 


To hide how much of winter's ugliness? 

One solitary cedar tree, 

Festooned, takes on to me 

The semblance of an Arctic reverie. 

Tight shut each drab and lashed lid 
Of yonder sullen sky, 

That keeps immured and safely hid 
The sun-god’s garish gleaming eye. 

What means this fairy shower— 

These tinsel tokens trailing from on high? 

Be they the snow-clad fragments of an hour? 
Thru zig-zag lanes of air 

The nagging gusts hound them most everywhere, 
Down to the earth’s great trundle-bed, 

So stark, so utterly disgarmented. 

Comes it from heart of love 
Some kindly miller from above 
Sifts down this plethora of flour? 

Or has Aladdin plied his ^wishing power 
To prank, as ’twere, a pretty counterpane 
For nursling plants a-silent slumbering. 

Until what time comes wakening of Spring 
Which blue birds warble, warble back again? 


[ 49 ] 


But, oh, amen! amen! 

The blue birds may not warble back again 

The nurslings underneath the sod 

That stricken mothers have consigned to God. 

In charmland heaven's rich parterre 

They blossom and they bloom forever there. 







'The Death-Bed of Ursula 




[E skin ethereal and the bloodless lip, 

The wan, wan cheek and gasping after breath— 
These tell their tale of—shall I whisper it, 

The griding word? They tell the tale—of death. 


Beside her couch the parents muse and pray, 
Biding the laggard hours as they go. 
Despite yon sick-bed’s sterner evidence 
How parent love—rebels to have it so! 


She and demise—words strangely dissonant, 

Bare thought of them turns thinking into tears. 
And must thou enter here, grim reaper. Death ? 
Bethink! ’tis Spring not Autumn of her years. 


Will sunshine long defer its entrance here 
When she is gone? Or song of sweetling bird 
Sound as it sounded in the cheery past, 

When oft her own sweet cheery song was heard? 


Grieve not for me, dear parents,” said the maid. 
And oh, the world of bravery in those eyes! 

Love shall remember her thru years of days, 

And fondly trust to greet her in the skies. 


[ 51 ] 


^The Little Flower’s” Choice 

To Soeur Therhe Showering Roses 

GENTLE damozel, do thou give ear! 

We’d have thee arbitress,” the flowers cried. 
Scarce can our rival souls be satisfied 
Till from thy sainted lips it shall appear 
Which ’mong our sisters three who cluster here 
May count herself The Little Flower’s pride. 
May’t be the rose? or lily by her side? 

Belike ’tis she, coy violet hiding near. ’ ’ 

hhill graciously the smiling maiden said: 

^ ^ Thee, humble violet, chose I when on earth, 
Whereby I came to prize the lily’s worth.” 

The eager rose blushed here to deeper red. 

”But thou, the type of Jesus’ burning breast— 
Thy bloom, sweet rose, put I above the rest. ’ ’ 


[ 52 ] 


Dream Travel 


DIEU, my wee traveler, close your eyes, 

Dreamlets are sifting adown from the skies, 

And we must be off, away and afar, 

To see, to see where the wonder things are— 

Over the tree crests and over the lea. 

Singing heigh-ho right merrily,— 

Rollicking, frolicking, laughing, singing 
All of the long night through. 

Rest, little curly head! Now the white sheep 
Playfully tumble and playfully leap. 

The slumber steeds are a-prancing, and soon 
They shall be climbing the lanes of the moon; 

Up where the fires of starland glow, 

Elfland rivulets flash as they flow; 

And aren’t we the cunningest, stunningest folk 
That ever the starland knew. 

Lullaby, rockaby, next we shall go 
Where the satiny dream tides silent flow. 

A fig for the dolphins! Who cares for the whales. 
As we speed it along with gossamer sails— 

Down, down to the caverns of emerald green, 

A-past the gay nymphs with their frolicsome queen; 
And ever we lilt as we gracefully glide 
Over the ocean blue. 


[533 


And then with a whoop and a crack of the whip, 
We’ll sleigh it along on our northland trip. 
Jingle-bells, jingle-bells, swiftly we go 
Over the crinkling virgin snow, 

Where crystalline turrets chum with the sky, 

And the bear cubs jig to our lullaby; 

'‘But what be ye doing up here!” they shout: 
" ’Tis beware,—^beware for you!” 







} 


To a Kindly Sympathizer 

pis yet too soon, good sir, for thee to seek 
^By proffered sympathy ill-timed, to halt 
This torrent of parental grief. These two 
Leave thou with God—^twere best. Show but thy faee ; 
Nor speak, save sparingly at best. Poor words, 

So maladroit! Seem they not vulgar here 
In awful presence of so vast a woe? 

Leave them with God—^twere better so. Speak here 
By kindly pressure of thy hand, or by 
Thine eye^s mute eloquence. When Heaven sends 
An overplus of anguish like to this, 

’Twill have its way. Wouldst vainly seek to stay 
The surcharged udders of a brooding sky? 

E’en nature’s storms must spend themselves, ere calm 
Resume its sunshine sway. Better the eye 
Suffuse with tears, than that pale haggard grief, 
Unblest by largess if relieving tear. 

Unto the soul’s grim fortaliee retire 
To bar the door, and sullen woo despair. 

Come where she lies in snowy raiment garbed, 

As when her first great sacramental joy 
Made her glad fiancee of Christ the King. 

Shrink not, tho’ death be here; for death is kind 


E6i] 


To innocence, and all but leaves intact 
That tenement of clay where angel soul 
Did once abide. How like to counterfeit 
Of slumber this, her calm repose in death, 

With faint suggestion of her wonted smile 
On lips, here sealed in silence evermore! 

Kneel, Breathe thou a prayer, and say farewell! 

Prom **Idyls of the Hearth** 


■ 


156 ] 





To the bumblebee 


BUMBLEBEE, 

How pompously 

Thou fliest all fields over! 

A bumblebee 
Should humble be. 

And not claim all the clover. 


O, bumblebee, 

How clumsily 

Thou gatherest thy honey! 

Not bumblebee, 

But stumblebee 

Would best suit one so funny. 

0, bumblebee, 

Thou grumblebee! 

Leave off thy noise eternal! 
I’m sick of thee, 

Thou mumblebee. 

With all thy fuss infernal. 

0, bumblebee. 

What driveth thee 
In every known direction? 

I 'd nick-name thee 
**01d Tumblebee”— 

Thou tumblest to perfection. 


1573 


0, bumblebee, 

Molest not me; 

Keep far away thy stinger; 

Or I, may be, 

Will crumble thee 
If thou presume to linger. 

0, bumblebee, 

Then here’s to thee— 

Thou stumble-grumble-tumble-bee! 
I wish thee glee. 

Wherever thou flee, 

Old tumble-grumble-stumble-bee! 



[ 68 ] 





To Little Dog Petey 

(From a glance at his photo) 

0 this is the dog you call Petey? 

To be sure there’s a dog in there, 

If you’ll search hard enough to find him 
A-peekin’ through all that hair. 

But I can’t help thinking that Petey 
Was built in a bit of a dash— 

Kind o’ shoveled out of a snowdrift, 

And plopped down here with a splash. 

Or he’s likely as not from the southlands 
Snatched from a cotton bale; 

And got o’ the Lord two peepers, 

With a bark just ahead of his tail. 

Hark! Hark! How the rats are rejoicing 
Prom Madison southward to Twelfth! 

How their vivas are rending the night air. 
Each a*drinkin’ the other’s health! 

And the cats are a-havin’ their troubles, 
A-rushin’ their jobs night and day, 

Since you turned up your toes to the daisies, 
And Charon bore you away. 


Well, Petey, peace to your ashes! 

You were a dog, blieve me! 

And the rats must have gotten the ague 
Wherever you happened to be. 

And I ’spose you can preach us a lesson 
That’ll go right straight to the mark; 
For you seem to be sayin’ in language 
That sounds like your old-time bark: 

‘‘If ye were all men as truly 
As I was a dog clean through, 

Diogenes wouldn’t keep lookin’ 

So long for a man among you.” 



[ 60 ] 





qA ballad to the Jingo 

HO are these vaunted patriots brave, 

Who^d die our treasured land to save— 

To plant their standards in the sky 
To wave from freedom’s mount on high! 
They love their country every minute 
For what there’s in it. 

Who are these staunch defenders, say, 

Who’d point their swords and lead the fray? 
Who’d shield from perils lurking near 
Columbia’s hallowed soil thrice dear! 
They’d guard their country every minute 
For what there’s in it. 

Who are these Tells beyond compare, 

That yearn to breathe their native air— 
Whose pulses thrill with quick’ning blood 
Each moment for their country’s good? 

Oh, how their pulses beat each minute 
For what there’s in it! 

Still waters ever deeply flow: 

True worth courts never dazzling show. 
Weep not, fair Liberty,—^not dead 
Thy soldier boys who fought and bled^— 
Who sought and seek not every minute 
For what there’s in it. 


His Only Plea 

^OULDST enter here?*’ Saint Peter said 
*To the hnrdy-gnrdy man late dead. 

**Apt sure thy right of entrance here? 
Canst justify thy smirched career? 

‘‘Thy doings past full many chide; 
Complaint is heard both far and wide 
How thon didst rack men’s nerves all day 
With jargon of thy ceaseless play. 

“ ’Tis said how many a tongue did swear 
How many a mortal tore his hair; 

-And with the hope of gentle pax, 

Hath wished thee gone to Halifax. 

“The shades of Mozart and Chopin, 

With Liszt and others to a man, 

Protest thou enter not in here 
Within this hallowed atmosphere. 

“Speak up, if thou hast aught to say. 

Else turn thy steps another way; 

No topsy-turvy babel strain 
Perturbs the joys which here obtain,’’ 


[623 


Outspoke the hurdy-gurdy man,— 

Within his brain had come a plan, 

**Thy speech is just, ^tis even so. 

Nor had I thought to work such woe, 

^'Yet many tongues malign my art, 

Nor tell the pleasures I impart. 

Where misery dwells and hearts are sad 
Have I not made the children glad? 

"‘They followed me in joyful bands; 

They followed me and clapped their hands 
They trooped along to left and right; 

Their souls grew merry with delight. 

‘*The Savior did what I have done 
To each and every little one. 

Hear then my plea—my only plea— 

The little ones they plead for me.'* 







I 


















































































































